Wife
by asobi seksu
Summary: It occurs to him that she is not a substitute for Kagura or Shinpachi. And she doesn't have to be. GinTsu, post-canon.


a/n: I'm happy to see that people enjoy my GinTsu one-shots.

This is an overly long, stuffed to the gills with pointless FLUFF GinTsu (and some major love for Tsukuyo in general) oneshot. You have been warned.

* * *

x

**_Wife_**

x

Both of them grew up. No warnings came, as it was as subtle as the growth of one's hair - yet, it was inevitable.

Kagura finally accepts her father's invitation to go fight space aliens after she turned 18. She came back in time to visit Otose in the hospital, and sheds womanly tears when the old lady passes away. Then she leaves again, looking over her shoulder for the approval of her surrogate father - and he gives it freely, as he always has - but just like that, she's grown up. Gone. A lump forms in his throat but he banishes it to quick oblivion by outwardly celebrating the fact that he doesn't have to buy her sukonbu anymore.

Shinpachi, on the other hand, comes less and less often to his apartment. It's more lonely. These days he is a more than competent kendo instructor; he teaches pupils happy to learn from an understanding teacher. He's becoming a splendid man. He is no longer a straight man; now he simply shakes his head when Gintoki does something stupid. Shinpachi becomes wise and Gintoki sometimes looks at him bewildered, wondering where he has gone.

The family pet goes away too. Sadaharu happily follows Kagura wherever she goes. The stink of dog crap hasn't bothered him for a while.

Funny enough, he remembers all of this only when he opens the fridge and belatedly realizes that it's full, just like it has been for the last few years. There are no more empty sukonbu packets littering the ground or a nagging boy who swept the floor every day without fail.

Catherine and Tama run the bar downstairs; some customers come and go. He can hear the loud raucous laughter on the weekends, but other than the steady companion of a JUMP comic book and a cold carton of strawberry milk, he is very much by himself. Just another MADAO who freelanced once in a while to pay the rent.

It's even more depressing to think that even Hasegawa (the former poster man of MADAO) has reunited with his wife and found a steady job after years of being a loser. Gintoki sighs. No chance of even having a good drinking or gambling partner anymore.

Neat ends, all tied up in ribbons.

Everybody gets a happy ending. He's just left behind, that's all.

-x-

"You ought to get a wife," Ikumatsu told him bluntly as he sat down for his usual lunch. "How old are you, 36? You should be married by now."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You're the one who's refusing to get married." Katsura had a torch for her all these years. Still does, in fact.

"That's irrelevant, as I've already been married before. I don't need to marry again."

"Well, _maybe_ I'm happy being single," Gintoki said.

"Liar. If you were you wouldn't be coming here every other day."

The other man scowled. "It's a free country. I can come here wherever I want."

"What about that cute brunette you were helping out the other day? Seems like she really appreciated your company."

"Too young."

"I thought old men liked young girls."

"It's a good thing Katsura likes you. No one else would care to hear those filthy words coming out of your - OW!"

She had twisted his ear quickly. "Hey! I have old ladies eating in here."

Rubbing his ear, Gintoki scowled again. "I should sue for bad customer service."

Ikumatsu smirked. "Too bad. I'm legally protected against bullshit. Enjoy your ramen." She turned back to chop up some more vegetables for a nearby delivery.

Gintoki just sighed and began to eat. It was good; it always was.

-x-

"You wanna go out with me?" he asked her while he was playing pachinko. She was sitting next to him smoking her pipe.

"Like on a date?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a bored old man."

"Gintoki, that's not goin' to convince anybody, much less me, to go out with ya. And you're not that old."

"Yeah but what about you? You're over thirty too and it's not like you have a boyfriend either - "

"That's none of your business, asshole - "

" - and considering that your looks aren't the problem, but rather your tempestuous personality, you may as well say yes. Because I know that you haven't gone on a date in years."

"I haven't had the time, that's why," she said indignantly. "Go ask someone else to entertain you!"

"Fine."

He walked over to some call girl outside the door. After a few words, they made off, the girl utterly delighted that the Savior of Yoshiwara had thought her worthy of her time.

Tsukuyo harrumphed and went back to smoking her pipe. She ignored the sinking of her stomach and instead attributed it to some odd ingredient Hinowa had put into her lunch that day.

-x-

He called her a week later. "We broke it off," he reported.

"Good to know," she said. "Why?"

"Because she had a few holes in her head," he said.

"She probably did, considering she went out with you."

He laughed at that. "Okay then, Tsukuyo. Hater. You just don't like the perm, right? I swear every decent girl never wants to go out with me because of the perm."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe you're just bad at asking normal girls out on a date."

"Maybe I am," he conceded.

That afternoon, Hinowa lifted a suspicious eyebrow after she saw Tsukuyo skipping out of the door, off for work.

-x-

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I'm a little new here. Do you know where I could find a tobacco shop?"

Ikumatsu peered over her shoulder curiously as she stirred the broth for the next order of ramen. "There's one across the street from here, if you go to the right a few shops over."

"Thanks."

"Were you looking for a pipe? My husband only bought cigarettes from there; I don't know if they sell other things." Ikumatsu looked at the instrument hanging from the woman's mouth. It seemed expensive, judging from the flash of gold.

"It's not for me."

"Oh? Who is it for then?"

"It's for a client of one of my acquaintances. She wasn't able to go to Edo today. It's supposed to be a very lavish gift."

"If you want a fancier store, there's a lot more at the Kabuki-chou district. They sell those sorts of things."

"How far away is that?"

"Oh, around ten minutes if you can get a cab - twenty if you walk."

It was at that moment where Ikumatsu spotted Gintoki coming for his daily lunch. "Hey loser! This lady here needs some help."

"Seriously? I'm not helping any more old hags - oh, hey, it's you." He spotted Tsukuyo and grinned lazily. "Yeah, like I said, I'm not helping any more old hags."

"No one asked for your help anyway," she said, miffed.

Ikumatsu started to sharpen her cutting knife. She expertly slid it back and forth on her whetstone.

"Gintoki, use your motorbike and take this nice lady out to the store."

-x-

She felt panic rising over the thought of sitting directly behind him and risk the awkwardness of hugging him. So she was relieved when she swung both of her legs on one side and he made no comment about it.

He tossed her a helmet. "Here. I don't want any accidents."

It was heavy and smelled like old sweat. She made a face when she put it on but didn't complain.

He started up the engine, and then it went as fast as anything she'd been on. Her mouth went dry and her kimono fluttered in the wind. She could see Gintoki's hair flapping like the fur of a poodle. For some reason this image made her laugh.

"You okay?" he yelled over the din and the clatter of midday activity. The streets of Edo were dizzying. She finally shouted out "I'm fine!" but that was before she realized she was getting a bit tired from her walk all the way from Yoshiwara to the main city.

When he stopped at a red light, she leaned a little closer to him so that she wouldn't fall off his motorbike. Her lids drooped a little and she struggled to keep her back straight. Blinking a little, she yawned a little.

The next red light she slumped on his back, and felt so comfortable she didn't feel the urge to get off.

-x-

She felt so cozy, really, that it was a struggle to get up. Wrapped in warm blankets, and a soft pillow -

Tsukuyo got up so quickly that she nearly strained her back. Hell. She WAS wrapped in warm blankets and resting on a soft pillow. Looking around she found herself in an unfamiliar room.

She was clothed, so she doubted anything like _that_ had happened. She found her hair pins, wallet, and boots sitting neatly next to the futon.

It dawned onto her this was probably Gintoki's apartment. She slid the door open and saw him in the living room with a carton of strawberry milk with his legs comfortably crossed, reading a copy of Shonen Jump.

He flipped a page. "Guess you're awake."

"Yeah. Thanks. Weird that I'm sleepin' in your futon, but I appreciate it."

"It's not mine, it's one of Kagura's. She used to complain that mine smelled like an old man's so I figured I'd lay you down in one of hers."

"Much appreciated," Tsukuyo said. He could feel her lips curving up like a hint of a smile. "And you're not that old."

"I'm pretty old. I think most people would classify me as a MADAO these days."

"You're too comfortable bein' a loser that nobody could accuse ya of anything worse."

"Ouch," he replied sardonically. She snorted.

"I bought the tobacco pipe after you zonked out here," Gintoki said. "Figured you had to give it to her before tonight or something."

"Hmmph. Probably used all my money, didn't ya."

"Nah. Mighta bought a carton of milk, but that was about it." He winked at her.

He liked the way she got flustered so easily for dumb things like winking at her. Even though she wasn't a teenager anymore, she was shy. How could anyone be shy but also remain cool as a cucumber under much more dangerous circumstances, he didn't know.

"I guess I'll go now," she said, looking down so that he wouldn't see her blush any longer.

"All right," he said agreeably. He stood up to help her to the door; she murmured, "You don't have to do that for someone like me..."

"But I want to."

"Okay, if you say so," she said, and tucked a piece of hair under her ear. It struck him how feminine that particular gesture was. He had never really noticed those parts of her before.

"Have a safe trip home."

She looked at him for a while before saying quietly "I must be an idiot for doing this." As quick as the wind, she kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Thanks for everything," she said. Then turned on her heel, walking down the stairs, her shoes click-clacking as she moved further away from him.

Gintoki stood there in front of his door for a full minute before he touched his cheek.

-x-

"So, what happened?" Ikumatsu said expectantly and somewhat seriously.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"She fell asleep on my motorcycle, so I took her back home, let her doze off at my place, bought her client's pipe, and just waited until she woke up. Like I said, nothing happened."

"Wow," Ikumatsu said, wiping a bowl clean. "I think I'm seeing a new record. Sakata Gintoki has a beautiful woman waiting at home and he lets her go."

"What do you want me to do?" Gintoki said, annoyed. "She's a human terminator, gets crazy violent when she's drunk, makes fun of me all the time, and has a general stick up her ass."

"Sounds like you know her well."

"Too damn well," he said.

"Ever slept with her?"

He nearly spewed out his beer. "No!"

"Do you want to?"

He made a face.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I thought I was talking to a lady here, you dirty old man."

"Hey, I'd do her if I was a guy," Ikumatsu said.

"Well, you're not, so there."

"Doesn't really answer my question. I mean, would you personally do her?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'm a bored widow and I'm interested in playing matchmaker?"

"Well, I don't think I'll ever find a decent wife, so why don't you forget about it," he said bluntly. "She'll have to be wealthy so I don't have do any work around the house."

"Lazy ass," Ikumatsu said.

"You got it," Gintoki said, grinning.

"Sounds like a stress cleaner and stress cooker would be your best bet."

"How about I stay a bachelor like you forever instead?"

"You shouldn't. You're not like me. I have a commitment to this shop, you know. Daigo would have wanted me to keep it up and running."

A long silence permeated the shop - it always did when the subject of her dead husband came up - but Gintoki allowed it to brew for a while. There wasn't anything to say. It was a risk of marriage; getting your heart torn in two, but he'd known that Ikumatsu had never regretted being Daigo's wife, not even one second.

He finally looked up from his glass of alcohol. "Maybe you're right. I wanted to die with grandchildren on my deathbed anyways."

-x-

Tsukuyo came home on a late night after a patrol shift. She'd kicked around some bad guys, saved a few courtesans from sexual harassment, brought down a drug dealer or two. Life was good. She was tired in a good way, not a soul-sucking way, which happened more and more often as she grew older and had less energy to devote to her job.

The light was on.

She figured that Hinowa was waiting patiently for her. So she wasn't too surprised until she saw Gintoki talking seriously to Hinowa. Frowning, she decided to open the door rather than to eavesdrop - obviously they were here for a purpose, and she saw no point in beating around the bush.

He was sitting at the end of the table and caught her eye. _Now what_?

Hinowa cleared her throat and said, "I guess I'd better tuck Seita into bed" even though Seita was a perfectly competent boy who didn't need any more mothering than he did already. Tsukuyo simply replied "Good night," while Hinowa left, wheeling herself out.

An uncomfortable silence permeated the room before Gintoki broke the silence.

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked, standing up so that he could see eye to eye with her.

She looked away. "I don't know."

"If you wanted to go on a date with me I would've said yes."

"That's bullshit," she said flatly. "Who'd wanna date someone screwed up like me? I can't hold my liquor and I'm not funny or cute."

"No, you're right," he replied bluntly. "You really can't handle any liquor and you're not funny or cute."

"But you're beautiful. And you're kind. You know what it's like to lose something that you can never get back. That's not something I'll be able to find in any other woman."

"Don't kid around."

"I'm not."

She wrapped her arms around herself, seemingly unsure and almost frail in that moment. "I need to think about this," she said. "I can't just say yes just because you want me for a night. The world doesn't _work_ like that - "

"I never wanted you for just a night. This is for the long run."

This was the extent to where he'd willingly admit the nature of his attraction. He wasn't afraid of being turned down - life was like that, and after all, Tsukuyo was no woman to be won over easily.

He walked to the door to leave, knowing it was time for him to give her space, and beyond that, time.

-x-

He was in the middle of fixing his TV when the doorbell rang. It'd been a month since he'd seen her - the first week, he had worn out the rug when he walked back and forth anxiously in anticipation of her visit. The second, he jumped up every time the mailman knocked on his door for a delivery. The third, he had resigned in disappointment and mocked himself for being so expectant of a woman who had vowed herself to a life of celibacy. And now he was neutral about the entire affair. He'd written it off as a failure.

"Come in," he said without looking, still tinkering in the back of the machine. "The door's unlocked."

There was nothing to steal in his empty apartment and he figured that any serial killer would have a hard time taking him down anyway, sword or no sword.

He heard the door open and someone taking off their shoes. Probably Otose, who by this point didn't need to say "I'm coming in" for perhaps an invitation of drinks, now that he was paying the rent on time.

Squatting, he pinched off a red wire with clippers, frowning as it frayed.

Then he felt a sensation of a head resting against his neck, arms embracing him from behind. The perfume of smoke and soap curling in the air. He saw the slip of a black kimono and the familiar maple leaf pattern. The pair of clippers dropped from his hands, denting the hard wood floor.

"Oi, what's the verdict?" he asked softly.

"That you're a lazy bastard," she replied.

He grinned. Spoken like a true tsundere.

-x-

"So let me get this straight," he said, slightly waving his parfait spoon back and forth, "You've never had a boyfriend, right? Why is that?"

"Never had the time," she said coolly, sipping her tea. "I guess if you count, you can take off the never."

"Ever kissed someone before?"

Her cheeks bloomed red, but she forced herself to tell him the truth. "No."

"You're kidding. You live in Yoshiwara."

"Men don't usually see me as dating material."

"Gee, I wonder why," he remarked slyly. She kicked him under the table.

He mouthed out a curse word and hobbled out of the booth. "Oi! You're paying the bill for that."

Tsukuyo scowled as she saw him walk out to the entrance. "What kind of loser doesn't pay the lady on their first date?" she mumbled to herself. Despite that, she reluctantly acquiesced and pulled out her wallet.

When the cashier handed back her receipt, Gintoki cocked his head, as if he was trying to decide something.

"... What is it?"

She should have seen it coming, but she didn't. Not when his lips suddenly landed on hers fast and hard and in front of everybody too. He pulled back before she could do anything. In that split second she was shocked and simultaneously horrified.

"Thanks for paying," he said cheekily.

The waitresses swooned. Gintoki ran away before she could kill him.

-x-

She found him later at the corner of the street. He made to run off again but she pinned him down before he could escape.

"You're still not mad at me, are you?"

Famous last words.

She strangled him for about ten seconds before letting him breathe. She attempted releasing all of the passive-aggressive, womanly bullshit out of her system before she dropped him to the ground, aiming a murderous kick at the nearest trash can.

"Goddammit, Tsukuyo, what's the matter with you?"

"You stole my first kiss, asshole!"

"It's not stealing if I'm your boyfriend," he protested while massaging his throat.

"You didn't have to do that in front of people!" she fumed.

"I had to catch you off-guard," he said, trying to reason with her. "Look, no offense or anything - " he said, raising two hands up in defense, " - but you're the type of person who probably obsesses over first kisses. You'd get paranoid every time we were alone. And if I tried to kiss you in private, you'd freak out. You'd run away and I'd never get to see you again."

He's sweet and infuriating at the same time. She doesn't know how he does it.

"Kiss me for real next time," is all she can muster.

"Okay," he said.

-x-

She saw the parts of him that most people overlooked. The way he solemnly said "Itadakimasu" with genuine gratitude before every meal. The way he looked into the distance sometimes when he thought she wasn't paying attention. The lilting smile he made when he was making fun of her in an affectionate way.

She just didn't understand that he did the same to her.

One day they shared a meal of oden - food best appreciated in the winter. He ordered a beer for himself, plucked two eggs from the steaming containers underneath the blue canopy of the stand onto her bowl. They swam in the rich broth as the steam rose up in that small space.

"So what's your favorite color?"

"Gold. Yours?"

"Silver."

She nibbled on a piece of radish before thinking of a question to ask him. "Why do you carry a wooden sword?"

"Because it's illegal for someone like me to have a real one," he said. "And also because I hate killing people. There's no point in me carrying a metal sword. What's your favorite type of vegetable?"

"Pickled cucumber."

She wasn't used to talking about herself. Not especially to somebody that she'd thought would have tried kissing her after their hilariously bad first date.

He hadn't even held her hand. Not that she minded too badly. Instead, he would simply meet up with her like this. A small meal, or a stick of dango. A conversation held here and there. All this but nothing to indicate that he wanted something more.

"People are talking," she said suddenly.

"What about?"

"Us, I guess." Tsukuyo bit into an soft boiled egg. "You keep meeting me."

"Well, yeah, because I want to see you. Duh."

"Why?"

"Because I like you? Don't know what's so hard to understand."

"I've never met anyone who wanted to see me more than three times before."

"Not even your subordinates? What about Hinowa? Or Seita?"

"That's different," Tsukuyo replied. "You're going out of your way for five minutes worth of me. They don't."

"It's not that terribly far from here," he said, shrugging. "I have a motorbike."

"Still. I'm bad company." She would have rather chewed glass than to admit it, but she envied the way Gintoki naturally attracted people to him. He wasn't even particularly friendly - there was just something in him that she didn't have.

"You might think you are," he said. "But that doesn't mean that you're not worth going out of the way to talk to."

She mulled over that one while biting into a piece of tofu. "I don't know," she said. "I don't think I made any friends before you opened the ceiling."

"Better late than never," he reminded her. "Want another egg?"

"No that's all right. Thank you." After he'd drained the last of his beer she took out her wallet again, like all the other times before that.

"I could pay, you know."

She ignored him (like the other thousand times) and gave the vendor a smile. "Thank ya for the excellent meal."

"You know, you're actually really sweet inside," he said, as they walked outside for a bit.

She frowned. People always called her tough, or scary - there were the few misguided fools (one being Gintoki) who sometimes called her beautiful - but sweet?

"It's true," he said, reading her like an open book.

"Uh, no one's called me sweet before."

"I think that's because they're afraid you'll smash their head open, but hey, that's just me."

"Gintoki!"

"It's the truth, though."

She made a face at him but strangely didn't feel the inclination to hit him.

Later while they walked around town talking about anything and everything she had noticed his hand slipping into hers. He was surprised yet quietly triumphant when she raised no objections.

-x-

Several days later, she was taken aback when a lanky, black-haired police officer with a cigarette in mouth came up to the both of them.

"Oi. I'm arresting you for sexual harassment," he said bluntly to Gintoki after taking a quick glance at Tsukuyo.

"You're mistaken," she said hurriedly, hooking her arms with his. "I'm his girlfriend."

The police officer remained unconvinced. "I'm more of the opinion he probably coerced you into dating him, because there's no way this loser could have won you over."

This struck her nerve in the wrong places.

"He's not a loser."

The man lit up a cigarette. "Prove it."

"He could beat you up without breaking a sweat."

"Thugs don't scare me, miss."

"I've hit him with too many knives and he keeps sticking with me."

"Or he's a masochist."

"Or _maybe_ - " and here she pulled out a kunai too quick for even demon eyes to follow - "you can shut up, officer. Where I come from you have no jurisdiction over my will."

For some reason the officer started laughing.

"What's so funny?" she demanded angrily.

"Nothing," he said. "I guess you're really dating him. I'd never thought I'd see a day where a woman would actually defend his honor on her account."

"What, you know Gintoki?" She doesn't loosen her grip on her knife.

The officer sighed. "Too well. I'll let you off this time," he says, but there's a smirk curling under his lips. Both he and Gintoki exchanged small glances - too coolly apathetic for her to dismiss them as mere acquaintances - before the officer turned on his heel.

"Send me a wedding invite," he said, strolling away with his mayonnaise lighter tucked in his back pocket. Her ears burned with embarrassment and she nearly fumbled with her kunai as she slipped it back to where it belonged.

Tsukuyo didn't even have to turn around to see the obnoxious smirk forming on Gintoki's face.

"You know, I didn't ask to be defended," he said, clearly amused.

"Shut up."

He lets her simmer down for a few minutes before slipping his fingers into hers and pulling her to a secluded alleyway.

"Hey," he says and she avoids looking into his eyes. "It's okay, alright? I should have told you that I knew him - "

"It was my fault for lashing out."

"I thought it was cute."

Tsukuyo tries to respond, but his fingers touches her mouth, silencing her. He doesn't want her to deny anything. Because she _is_ adorable, goddammit.

It's not the most romantic scene they've ever been to, but the lack of people around inspires him to do what he should have properly done years ago. He gently presses his lips against hers and waits for the swell of shock to subside. Hers respond with contentment.

-x-

He invited her to his small apartment above Otose's Snack Bar. She saw all this: an old but dearly beloved TV, a few couches to nap on during the day, an outdated telephone on a dilapidated desk (for Gintoki had no use for cell phones or computers), and the poster of _Sugar Content_ resting over their heads.

There was a small kitchen with a simple gas stove and fridge; a silver kettle rested snugly on the furthest corner of the counter. It wasn't luxurious by any stretch of the imagination compared to the sleek antiquity of Yoshiwara. The first time she had visited, these details had escaped her. But now they took on a significance that made her feel kinship with him. This was Gintoki, living simply without need of material desires save for a chocolate parfait now and then, yours truly. She liked his home.

He made her a pot of tea. A comfortable silence descended on the two of them.

She took a sip and he poured himself a cup.

"Do you want to go on a trip with me?" he said suddenly. She put her cup down, a little startled.

"Where?"

"My sensei's grave."

Her mouth opened, still shocked until she had the good sense to say something, anything.

"It wouldn't be proper for me to do that," she began, somewhat cautiously. "I never met him."

"I can't go alone."

It was the first time she had ever seen him beg. With sudden clarity she raised her eyes and looked at him. There was probably a reason why he had to go. Gintoki never asked other people for favors of the deep and personal kind; he merely returned them. Realization struck her that if she said no, it would do more harm than good.

She nodded. She could feel the tension sap out of his body.

"Thank you," he said.

He rested his forehead on her shoulder. Her stomach flapped wildly - most unbefitting for a woman of her age - but she hesitantly put out her hand and stroked his hair. It was unmanageable and tangled, yet all she could think was how perfect it was for Gintoki to have a messy perm.

-x-

The train took them all the way from Edo to the countryside of Hagi.

She had bought a book to kill time - something he was astonished by, as he never imagined Tsukuyo to be the book-reading type - and he his own comic books. The train didn't allow smoking but she cracked a window anyway just for the hell of it. Luckily the shades were drawn down and none of the assistants thought to check on their section.

Predictably both of them got bored with their reading material after some time; _The Tale of Genji_ was far too arduous for Tsukuyo to handle for more than an hour. She lit up her pipe and leaned next to the window. Gintoki had dozed off, his hand lightly gripping the latest volume of Shonen Jump.

It was slipping out of his fingers - so she caught it neatly and set it aside. Quietly rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a small blanket and gently folded it around his body so he wouldn't wake up.

He rustled in his sleep but didn't open his eyes. She curled up on her own seat and went back to reading her book.

Mysteriously, her own eyes became tired and she closed them for a minute. Later she would awaken to find the blanket on top of her, Gintoki picking his nose and reading his comic book as if nothing had happened.

-x-

There was, in truth, no proper grave for someone whose head had been lopped off in some indeterminable prison. The four of them had buried the head in some godforsaken place, never to be remembered again.

"It's not like ya to dwell on the past," she said a bit hesitantly as they descended from the train.

"I'm not dwelling," he said. "I'm just keeping a promise."

-x-

A part of her feels like she's violating sacred ground when she patiently waits for Gintoki to finish with what's he doing. Here are the remains of his school, burnt wood that has decomposed through the years under the weather and bugs that have eaten through the old buildings. He runs a finger across the entrance, closes his eyes and tries to remember what it was like to open a brand new textbook.

Paying homage to a place that still pains him seems masochistic. But Gintoki measures his life in phases; he's figured that remembering Shoyou-sensei is still important, if only to introduce a woman that he knew was to become his future wife. He's been here before the war, after the war, and he visits the school now to remind him that he's still lucky to be alive.

He sees Tsukuyo respectfully waiting outside of the school gates. She doesn't smoke right at this moment, doesn't defile the precious ground with her ash and there is no amount of money that can measure how grateful he is for her right now.

Gintoki breathes in the fresh air and sends a quick prayer to his sensei. His body fills up with a lightness and he walks out of there, mind focused on how cool and smooth her hand is in his.

-x-

She was nervous about sharing a bed when they arrived a local inn but in predictable Gintoki-fashion, the room came with two futons. Gintoki was the sort of person who looked like he didn't care about other people's discomfort, but his actions always meant more than his outward appearance. He hadn't even talked to her or anything regarding staying in the same bedroom, he simply requested two pillows and futons and that was it.

It's in the middle of dinner - a nice ensemble of grilled okonomiyaki with a mixture of local variants - when she touches his hand lightly.

"What? You want more soy sauce?"

He is astonishingly perceptive but also incredibly stupid. She sighed, admitted "yeah," before biting into another freshly grilled pancake.

A few minutes went by before she finally decided to bite the bullet. "Gintoki."

"Hm?"

"What was your sensei like?"

Gintoki looked up sharply.

"He was my father figure," he said slowly. "He took me in when I was a kid."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." She could see that he was fiddling with his chopsticks and mentally debating whether this was a good subject to talk about.

"We don't have to talk about it if ya don't want to," she said.

"Nah, it's fine. It's just that nobody asked me before."

"Not even Kagura or Shinpachi?"

"They just weren't... I don't know. Part of it." Gintoki picked up a spatula and began scraping off a part of the pancake. "I was part of the war when I was 18 and I wanted to let go of all of it when the old lady let me stay in her spare apartment. I mean, they're kids, really... Or were back then. They don't need to know."

"You were that young when you fought in the Joui war?"

"Yeah. I'm not proud of it," he said quietly.

"Can I ask why?"

"Stupid reasons," he said. "It was Takasugi who pulled me and another buddy into it. At the time the school where our sensei taught us was burned down, and we were dumb teenagers itching for vengeance."

"Takasugi? You don't mean Takasugi Shinsuke ... ?" Her voice trailed off in wonder.

"Commander of the Kiheitai, super psycho destroy-the-world organization?" At this Gintoki snorted in derision. "Yeah. That's him."

"You have friends in high places."

"Former friend. We don't really... er, talk anymore."

"Can't imagine why," she said. He raised his eyebrow until he saw a tiny quirk of a smile. Her sarcasm was often fleeting and imperceptible.

"Why do you ask, by the way?"

"Curious. I always wondered why ya were so strong."

"It comes in handy time to time."

Her smile was like a flower that only bloomed during a full moon. He leans over after she's done, capturing her lips for eternity.

-x-

Her paycheck comes from the establishments who gladly pay a monthly fee for the Hyakka's protection against vagrants and trash who too frequently come into Yoshiwara looking for cheap thrills. She divides the neighborhood into sections and rotates teams each night; then she sets out accounts for the purchase of weapons every week.

It is a thankless job, although from most accounts the all-woman ensemble seems to be more efficiently run than Edo's own Shinsengumi. It's why Tsukuyo smokes too much, because there is always a worry someone innocent will be killed on her account.

It's starting to catch up with her, the fact that she's not as fast or strong as she used to be. Her muscles ache each night and her bruises are healing slower than they used to.

Gintoki doesn't say anything to her; she is a proud woman. But he notices. She wakes up to healing ointments and epsom salts to soothe her aches neatly placed next to her bed. At first she thought it was Hinowa purchasing those things as she had never breathed a word of complaint to him.

Then Seita accidentally blurts out the truth. Tsukuyo places a phone call and says she doesn't want his charity.

"You're an idiot," he said quietly.

"I don't need your help."

"I know."

"I can buy those things myself."

"But I don't want or need you to."

He cannot justify telling her that it is time for her to step down. She has many well loved subordinates, but none still are as fiercely strong or independent as she is. No one will ever replace the Courtesan of Death until she dies. She will waste away under the poisonous fumes of tobacco, or maybe a sharp dagger on the left side of her chest. He sees this in Hijikata Toushirou and no doubt sees it will end the same for Tsukuyo.

Sakata Gintoki is a fool, in love with a woman who can never do what is best for her. She is utterly unselfish yet paradoxically she stands proud and he counts her as one of his biggest weaknesses.

She is silent, the tension is palpable. Softly she murmurs, "I know."

"I'll see you in the morning," he promised her.

The next morning he shows up with healing balms and painkillers.

-x-

The year passes by before the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms wafted above their heads. Tsukuyo admires a lone petal in her palm, the silky color marvelous in her eyes.

"They don't grow 'em where I live," she said, turning it over.

He picked his nose. "They're overrated."

"They're a flower of new beginnings, aren't they?" She's gotten into a bad habit of ignoring what he says.

"They're overrated," he repeated.

"Oh, shut up," she said.

"Fine," he replied, lying back on the picnic blanket.

A little bit later she lies next to them. The flower petals fall down slowly. The sky is so blue and he laughs when she points out the shape of the Shogun's face in the clouds.

It occurs to him that she is not a substitute for Kagura or Shinpachi. And she doesn't have to be.

"Oi, Tsukuyo."

"Hm?"

"You wanna get married?"

She turned on her side.

"Where would you live if you married me?"

-x-

Across from the bar, Ikumatsu serves him the usual bowl of ramen with a glass of cool water.

"I took your advice," he said.

"Which one?"

"Guess."

Her eyes land beadily on his hand. A thin but silver band adorns his ring finger in the most subtle of ways.

"Holy fucking shit."

-x-

"You're marrying a loser, ya know."

"I understand."

"He never pays his rent on time."

"I know."

"He'll make you pay all his bills."

"You're right."

"He'll gamble and drink and buy Shonen Jump 'til the end of eternity."

"That's fine."

"If you bear his children make sure they don't end up losers like him."

"I will."

And just like that, Otae hands her the most expensive bottle of wine in her cellar that Tsukuyo knows her husband will never let her drink. "I wish you all the best in your marriage."

-x-

"Marriage. Marriage is what brings us together... today. Marriage! That blessed arrangement. That dream... within a dream! That love... _true love_... will follow forever... so treasure your love... "

Gintoki wanted to kill the person who allowed Gengai to bestow the wedding oaths. He opened his mouth to interrupt before Tsukuyo stepped on his toe, keeping a forced smile on her face.

"_This guy is a joke_," he whispered furiously. "_Everybody else is sleeping in the pews_!" Indeed he could spot Kagura dozing off, her head lulling like a bobble toy before Okita smacked the top of her head. She woke up with a yelp before the two got into a nasty catfight that was so far entertaining the rest of the still-awake audience.

_"So? He's bound to get to the man and wife part soon!"_

_"How do you even know?"_

_"I just do, okay?"_

Three excruciating minutes later of bad poetry, a destroyed pew, and the shattering of a stained glass window, Gengai said with the slowest of intonations: "Do you, Sakata Gintoki, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Tsukuyo-shi, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Good," Gengai said, stroking his obnoxiously long beard. "Now we will listen to my favorite record, Fanny's Monja, before we conclude the service - "

"JUST GET TO THE '_YOU MAY NOW KISS THE BRIDE_'!"

The old man sighed dramatically. "Kids these days. _So_ impatient. Well then... _You may now kiss the bride_, so help me God."

Gintoki lifted the veil. "This is the last time we're letting Hinowa plan a wedding," he deadpanned.

"I couldn't help it! I swear she was taking over and by the time I came to my senses she - mmph!"

His lips were warm and forgiving, and she drowns in complete bliss. She dropped her bouquet and the world turned quickly into a blur. When they separated she dimly registered the sound of loud applause, but Sakata Gintoki is the only center of the universe that swallows her whole.

Neat ends, all tied with ribbons.

Everyone gets a happy ending. His comes with the Courtesan of Death.

x

the end

x

* * *

p.s. reviews don't make my day. they make my week.


End file.
